Darker than Fire
by Setch
Summary: Isabella cannot keep her humanity anymore. It has been too long, and the one that matters has not returned. She has waited enough, so why not make a pact with the devil? Dark/AU/Femslash
1. Chapter 1

The deception of losing the one you love is something I cannot quite explain, not unless you've felt it before. How could I possibly describe the level of bitterness I achieved when I finally comprehended I would never see her again.

"She's gone," I told Jacob when he found me in the forest and gathered me in his arms. I could clearly see he was a bit confused by my use of the personal pronoun, but he did not question me. He probably thought me unhinged after the dramatic ending of my relationship.

I said no more to him for a week at least, and even to this day I have not revealed my heart to anyone else. I think of her more often that I would like, and I would like to not think of her at all, but I have learned to cope. Unfortunately, the changing process from the girl I was to the woman I am has erased a fragment of my humanity. I would not say I am truly rancorous, only partially angry and a daily cynical. However, I am mostly resigned to my fate as a loveless human for however many years I have left.

I am thirty-five now and not getting any younger. It is obvious that I cannot wait any longer than I have already. But I am a fool. I do not whether I achieved fame whether for my own sake and personal accomplishment, or just so she would see me on HDTV. I am quite sure she does, but if for the last ten years she hasn't come to me, then she will not for the next ten either.

I lace my fingers together and observe the landscape before me. Bergen is such beautiful city; it's a shame I must leave so soon. Businesswomen have little to none vacation days, and though this isn't a vacation, it is the closest thing I have had in a long time. I've learned the hard way that men have more, though not by much, privileges in comparison. This world is a tank, and the little fish must thrive or they get eaten: survival of the fittest; Darwin was a genius.

"Everyone is in position, Miss Isabella," I nod without turning. My secretary sneaks away as stealthily as she came. I am, so far, content with her performance. She is nice, but professional, and will never stick her nose into my personal life. She does not look for a friend, or a quick-way to a promotion through the doors of my apartment. I like her enough to remember her name and pay for both our coffees when I'm in a good mood.

I take a deep breath before standing and heading to the Conference Room. I calm myself before reaching the hallway that gives way to the room. This position assures me I will not be seen while I placate my nerves before a meeting. Any visible show of weakness can give these people the wrong idea and the 'right' to question my leadership. I cannot have that; and I certainly do not want to dismiss anyone when the company is stable and growing. More so, and I know this is childish, I do not want to do the paperwork or see another man or woman crying their hearts out. I simply do not have the heart or time for that.

I open the door and stroll confidently to my place at the end of the table. I smirk inwardly; the true bloodsuckers are in this room, including myself. I keep tabs on everyone here, and none is what you could call a Saint. Every fetish, every little dirty secret well-kept behind doors, I know. I did not get this far without a bit of dirty fight.

"Let us begin," My voice will not weaver at any point. I am in control and I know it. My eyes, steely, are always on the prowl. I unnerve my staff and I relish in that lone fact. I rule with iron fist, but they cannot complain, what with how high their salary is. I do not sweat, my hands do not shake; I don't remember the last time I blushed any more than I remember the last time I socialized.

My turn is over before I realize, and the man to my right waits for my permission to start his presentation. I nod at him and cross my arms under my chest as I analyze his proposal. They all know what I will answer, that I will call to another meeting for tomorrow, after I've analyzed myself the pros and cons.

The meeting is over before long. We all shake hands politely and go on our way. My phone vibrates and I see a message from my secretary, informing me that someone has called her to contact me. I answer quickly and head to my temporary office, where I know she has already left the number to call back.

But all I see when I arrive is darkness, and the most sinister silence invades the entire floor. I have a bad feeling about this; there are goose bumps all over my arms. My instincts have never failed me; there is something dangerous lurking here. And I think bitterly, it is probably waiting for me.

I hesitate for a fraction of second before opening the door of my office. There are no words to describe what comes next, when I see a man standing before the corpse of my former secretary. My words leave me for a minute.

And then I see his red eyes, shining brighter than the malicious smile that tugs at his lips.

I sigh, my chest heaves as I shuffle to the bar in the corner and pour myself some vodka.

"I would offer you, but..." I trail. I do not know how, but the moment I saw him I knew that he knew. He nods and sits in front of me, as if he hadn't just killed my most efficient secretary. I would sue him if I could, or at least if my life wasn't in peril as it is.

"Isabella Swan. You are not like I remember." He purses his lips and seems to be calculating his next step. I've seen that look before, in men that ponder their next words. However, as far as I am concerned, he is choosing how I will die. He is obliged to; I recognize the uniform.

My grimace says everything about the taste of the liquid fire that travels down my throat. I face him directly, now collected and determined not to prolong this, "I am most certain I have never seen you before in my life. Why have you not killed me yet?" He throws his head back and laughs. His long hair shakes with him, and it's almost comical, given his stature. Nevertheless, he is beautiful, like every one of his race, and even as a dwarf he would look gorgeous while sneezing.

"I do enjoy the newlyfound steel in your bones, Isabella, May I call you Bella?" I simply shrug. I do not care how he calls me. I just hate when people beat around the bush like he's doing now. If calling me Gandalf will help speed up this conversation, then I'll wear the hat and staff if I have to.

"Could I touch your hand?" I remember him now, and his gift. He is _not_ another minion in the Volturi. I frown, but I do as he asks. I suppose I am 'lucky' that he is taking so long in ending my life. The other possibility does not leave my mind, but I do not entertain the thought as much.

His smirk widens when he finally touches my hand, slowly feeling them from my digits to my wrist. I am honestly spooked by this almost sensuous movement, but I do not let him on it. His eyes swirl with excitement and he finally shows his true colors when I see the venom slip through for a second.

"You saw nothing, did you, Aro of the Volturi?" I cross my arms under my chest and allow myself a small sardonic smile. He claps his hands and stands up, seeming truly moved.

"I did not, you are right." He smiles. I am taken aback for the first time. It is soft like a breeze, and I feel no malice from him any longer. My eyes dart to my secretary's corpse. Well, almost.

"Are you here to kill me or change me?"

"It was decided by consensus that you would be killed, rather than changed." He huffes like a petulant, offended child. "I argued that it was a waste to dispose of such a talent, but my brother was rather adamant that we exterminate you immediately." He is only missing the pout now.

"Why are we talking then?" He smiles softly.

"I simply cannot anymore." He stands and grabs my hands in his, applying as little force as he can so as not to squish them. I am truly curious by his demeanor. Or maybe he is truly as insane as he was described to me.

"At first, I was to abide the decision. But I came here, and you are not Bella anymore, but Isabella. The vision, the memories I had of you are no more. I see it in you, that you yourself killed that child. You are a fascinating specimen, and I want to study you." He tilts his head and nods. "I am a very curious man, and I have the means to indulge myself every now and then. Your gift may very well be one of the reasons, but there is something in you that attracts my mind. And I want it, Bella."

I sigh and nod, "Very well, let me resign so you can change me." He shakes his head fervently to his sides. My eyes bore into his, and I frown.

"Then... what do you want, Aro?" He smirks and kisses my knuckles one my one.

"Business, my dear. Only business. And you simply cannot refuse." His tone gives away the true meaning of his words: either accept or die.

I feel no inclination towards death yet, no matter how depressing my life presents itself to be sometimes. I wonder if Aro's deal will make me wish for death, either now or in the future. But I already shook his hand, before I noticed, and I never back down from a deal, consequences be damned.

"I owe you much, Miss Swan. More than you could imagine." He pauses and smiles at me. Again, softly. "It is a rough path before the end, but I am positively sure you will fulfill all my expectations. Let us make a toast, to the dark future ahead of us." He refills my glass. My lips part on their own accord to allow his catering to me. I have a feeling this will be one of my last moments to 'relax'. I do not think Aro to be maniacal, I think him like Darwin, a mind of its own. However, I do not think Darwin had the power Aro possesses today, nor his cunning. I can see it now, the pact I made with the devil could only make me a devil myself.

Maybe now I won't have time to think about her anymore. Whatever Aro's plans are, I have a feeling it won't be pretty for me. But it's alright, I am ready to give up what I have left of humanity.

* * *

Just a little something to show I am still alive. M to be safe.

Updated: 21/11/2015


	2. Chapter 2

Unhappy is she to whom memories of childhood bring only sadness. Such a lot the gods, if there any, gave me - me, the disappointed, the barren, the broken. And yet I am strangely content with those memories, when my mind threatens to reach beyond.

In the cosmos there is balm as well as bitterness, and that balm is nephente. In a second, the burst of a black memory can vanish in a chaos of echoing images. I am not sorry. Now I ride with the mocking and unfriendly demons of my future, and play by day in the fine line between life and death. I know that light is not for me, save that of the moon, nor any joviality save the unnamed feasts in my honor at Volterra. Yet, in my new freedom I welcome the bitterness of estrangement.

Nor human nor vampire.

I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger among those who are still men. But those who feast for me also see me with guarded eyes. I see them behind the pale vapours which hide the redness of their orbs. They fear that I do not fear. The longer I listen to their minds, the more grotesquely I am fascinated.

As I sit deciphering the accursed French on the parchment in my hands, I feel more at ease than in the last five years. Although I cannot comprehend the heinous handwriting, I do succeed in overhearing the nocturnal playing of one lonely, silly man. Then, properly defeated by the paper, I grow bold enough to climb the first staircase to his room. There is his room; I often hear sounds which fill me with an indefinable dread - a dread of naive wonder and brooding misery. The playing grows fiercer, and I come back down as this indication of his mood will not favor me.

"He will not hunt tonight," I inform one of the guards. He nods and leaves me be on my own.

Aro has a certain number of failures that remain alive, and when he thinks of conceivable yet virtually impossible eventualities he often shivers beneath his usual stolidity. I am not a failure, that as much I can understand. On these prime nights he immerses himself in a mood, a trance of which he cannot escape. Terror stalks him when he reflects on his partial failures; nameless things resulting from imperfect solutions.

Of his methods in the aforementioned five years I dare not speak. I was held to him by sheer force of will, and witnessed sights no human tongue could repeat. Gradually, I too lost my mind in his quest to satisfy his curiosity. But I gained as well; I gained more, so, as a businesswoman, I can say it was a good deal.

I think the climax came when he had proven his point that rational life can be illogical.

People have questioned me, but what can I say? They could never fathom what goes behind closed doors, nor do they want to.

"I shall be retiring soon. He will call me when he comes around," I inform one of my acquaintances in the castle. I leave the French behind, much too happy. She calls to me.

"There is a mission for you, Mistress." I nod, absent, in mind, from this room. My hands take the letter which contains the specifications of my new task. The music plays no more. But it will continue, as it always does. Every full-moon.

I think back to our first year as colleagues. Of our first studies it's impossible to speak, since they held so slight a connection with anything of the world as living men conceive it. They were of that vaster and more appalling universe of dim consciousness which lies deeper than matter, time, and space, and whose existence we suspect only in certain forms of sleep - those rare dreams that go beyond mere dreams. We are walking knowledge and we do not know it, until we do. I had been halted by a barrier which my friend had successfully passed. But he never came back as Aro, only more, or less.

I stopped dreaming a long time ago, simply for my fear of dreaming again. The world is not ready, but it will be. Evolution is at stake.

Never did I think of her again, not in the same manner. I did not have the time, the will, or the mind. And, I do not think I have the heart anymore. My mutilated soul can attest to that. There is what is called human madness and perversity, but I am so much more. There is blood in my hands and palate; power fills my very core. I now flourish in the pain of others.

An alliance between the King of vampires and the human-no-more is the malign fatality this crippled world was missing. I will allow myself to think of it as dark humor.

* * *

Note: Formal writing was used on purpose, having in mind that it highlights the darker side of this new Bella (if you haven't noticed, it's her). It will not always be the case. Grammatically, what I am doing is wrong, but it's my story, and I will do as I please with it.

Updated: 22/11/2015


	3. Chapter 3

" _There you have her, ladies and gentlemen; Isabella Swan, the new CEO of Toncom Corp…"_

" _Toncom Corp. just announced plans for a new product. The details are…"_

" _Isabella looks magnificent in that dress. She was confirmed to be a candidate for the prize…"_

" _Upcoming news: Isabella Swan and mysterious man seen together at the Plaza…"_

" _Toncom Corp. Technologies surprised us all when CEO Isabella Swan announced the merging with an anonymous pharmaceutics company…"_

" _Isabella Swan shocks the world with sudden retirement at the young age of thirty-six."_

" _The mystery of Isabella Swan: four years after her disappearance."_

Even the lack of concrete information could not make the rumor less alarming. But there was none to be done. Isabella had disappeared on her own account, no indication of being abducted.

The family would always reunite in a semi-circle, always looking at the TV. Alice would either remain quiet or gasp after a vision, and then the rest would know what to expect. Always watching they were; always wanting to know what had been of Bella, in spite of Edward's insistence to leave her be and Rosalie's unusually quietness and the permanent crestfallen scowl she wore now. They were at least fascinated with her changes, and not just the physical ones. It was as if she was someone else altogether. Calm, confident… cold.

Isabella Swan disappeared soon after delivering the news of a merging. Even after this, new products in the market continued to be reported from year to year. All employers refused to comment, and it wasn't long before the urban legends started.

But then…

"… _Announcing the unexpected return of Isabella Swan to the company_ _.._ _."_

" _Merging partner's name revealed: Volturi Inc…"_

" _Isabella Swan and Aro Volturi seen together in meeting to negotiate future plans…"_

The following months are void of visible events. Isabella and Aro keep to themselves. Carlisle sends a letter to his old 'friend', disguising it as a casual letter. The Cullens live in fear and anguish, both for them and Isabella. There is also shared familial emotional upset permanently circling the air. And many questions without answers.

As twilight deepens Rosalie turns on the one feeble electric bulb over the luxurious, wooden-framed bed, and tries as best she can to continue the reading she had begun hours ago. She feels it judicious to keep her mind wholesomely occupied, for it would not do to brood over the abnormalities of these past times any more than she already has. She feels she must keep the image of her cold, indifferent eyes as far as possible from her imagination; the face for whose horror her conscious mind could never account. It would perhaps be easier to keep her thoughts from disturbing topics if the room were not so gruesomely dim.

To gain a partial relief from the general tension and sorrow she busies herself with her book collection, every day, every hour. She barely drinks blood anymore. Not that she feels any particular need. The symbol of security her fantasies provide is welcome in an environment of this kind, mostly to keep her sanity at bay.

The rest of the family worries, of course. This sudden hermit life calls for one or two meetings that exclude her. Alice is the one who keeps her mouth and mind shut. She has always known, deep down, who Rosalie really is. Rose is less surprised than regretful at the close confinement and secrecy her sister adopts. This reticence she explained away as due to a wish to wait and see how the future plays out. Rosalie holds no true hope.

During the next few days Rosalie is seldom seen by her family. She keeps closely to herself in her room; Alice brings packs of blood to the door and Rosalie will not take it in until after she has gone away. Suspense is written portentously over the whole situation, and the family finally confess themselves wholly at a loss what to do or think about it.

Then on the fifteenth of April a strange development occurs. While nothing appears to be different in Rosalie (save, perhaps, becoming more recluse), there is certainly a very terrible difference in the atmosphere; and Alice is just about to confess everything she knows and the bit she suspects. The aspect of her sister now became very haggard and hunted, and, in retrospect, she may have wished at this period to make some statement or confession. She thinks herself foolish to have waited so, but there is little to do now. A vision comes to her. Edward blurs to the door and opens it with trepidation, his eyes wide and frantic –even hopeful.

A predator smirks at the door.

* * *

Updated: 05/12/2015


End file.
